


Staying with you (#11)

by alexdamien



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Allergies, Comedy, M/M, a bit of angst, all around ridiculousness, everyone has the best intentions but camus is not happy about it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexdamien/pseuds/alexdamien
Summary: It turns out that there's a sting that can actually kill the scorpion. Camus is very much not amused.





	Staying with you (#11)

Milo and Camus were already late to Athena’s birthday party as they walked through the park. They had entered the park the wrong way, and by the time they realized, they just decided to walk across the park.

“Who even makes a birthday party in a park? There are way too many people here” complained Milo, a couple steps behind Camus because he stopped to stare and glare at the groups of people in the park. “Look! Those ones are in bikinis! We’re in a park you nudists!”

Camus rolled his eyes and kept walking “Hurry up,” he said, taking a quick look at his watch. Half an hour late. He groaned.

“Are there bees in here?” asked Milo. “I think I saw a bee!”

“Hurry up!” yelled back Camus, exasperated and wondering why he decided to come with Milo instead of coming on his own like everyone else.

His mind provided him with images of the sunlight that morning as it fell on Milo’s chest, and suddenly he remembered how nice it had been, to stay among the sheets, legs entwined and burying his face against Milo’s neck.

Hmmm, so that had been the reason. He pursed his lips, and found he wasn’t angry anymore. He looked back, and noticed that Milo had stayed several steps behind him, frozen to the spot and staring at his left hand.

“Are you looking for the bee?” asked Camus with a fed up sigh. ‘ _This is the man I love. We_ _’re already late and he stops to look for bees._ _’_ He told himself, still amazed that it was a fact of his life.

Milo gave a strangled laugh. “No, I found the bee,” he said, still looking at his hand. “It stung me.”

Camus rubbed at his temple. “Come here, I’ll cool the sting and make the swelling go down.”

And now they had a bee problem, unbelievable, thought Camus beckoning Milo to walk towards him. A group of kids ran through the space between them before Milo stopped looking at his hand and gave slow steps towards Camus. He looked up, and Camus noticed his face had paled to a strange shade.

“Are you ok?” asked Camus, walking up to him without even realizing he was moving.

“Yes, yes, I just…I think I’m supposed to be allergic to these things?” said Milo, giving another broken laugh. “It’s funny isn’t it? I don’t remember very, my Master said something about it when I was very little, but,” his words had a hiss to them, and he took a deep breath. “I mean, I sting people for a living,” he said laughing, and ran out of breath.

“Milo, I’m serious, what’s happening to you?” asked Camus, holding his shoulder and trying to look at Milo’s face. He knew nothing about bee sting allergies, he suddenly realized. Were they bad? What exactly did they do?

“I think…I think I can’t breathe,” said Milo with a strangled voice. He gasped, trying to draw in more air, and fell against Camus.

“W-what?” said Camus, helping Milo lean down on the grass.

“Is he ok?” asked a middle aged lady, holding a small girl by the hand. “Do you need help?”

“He- he was stung by a bee and he’s allergic,” said Camus, every single word that fell from his lips feeling unreal, as if spoken by someone else.

“Oh my god, I’m calling an ambulance,” said the woman, taking out her cellphone.

Milo smiled up at Camus. “Wouldn’t it be funny, if-” he said, his voice a hiss. Camus closed his mouth.

“Breathe, you idiot, focus on breathing,” he said with gritted teeth. Nearby, he could hear the siren of an ambulance approaching.

Because Milo should focus on breathing, and not on how stupid it would be to be resurrected twice and then die from a _bee allergy._

* * *

 

Calling the others from the hospital and explaining the situation had been the strangest and most uncomfortable phone call he had ever had to make.

“No, he’s fine now. Yes, he should be ok by tomorrow,” he had said, and then Mu passed the phone to Athena, and he had to reassure her everything was alright, he was already dealing with everything at the hospital and no one should worry. Then he hung up and went to sit down and worry next to Milo.

“You idiot,” he whispered, caressing his cheek.

Milo, still unconscious, didn’t move at all. Camus grabbed his hand, noticing the skin felt colder than usual to his touch.

“You damn stupid bastard,” muttered Camus, kissing Milo’s hand.

* * *

 

Hyoga appeared near sunset, holding a bouquet of white flowers and a bottle of whiskey in his hands, and seeming unsure of why exactly he had both of those things with him.

Camus stared at him and raised an eyebrow from his place sitting next to a still unconscious Milo.

“I…Didn’t know what I should bring him to the hospital,” said Hyoga, looking at the presents.

Camus stood up and walked up to him. “You tried to take both Ikki’s and Shun’s advice?” he asked, taking the bottle and the flowers from him and putting them on a nearby table.

“How did you-?”

“Just a guess,” said Camus, a small smile ghosting at his lips before vanishing when he went back to sit next to Milo.

“What did the doctors say?” asked Hyoga, taking a nearby seat.

“He’s stable now. Apparently he has one of the most severe bee allergies they’ve ever seen, but they say he should be ok now.”

“Wow.”

“I know. And as usual he never mentioned it. How he never came across a single bee in decades is beyond me.”

Hyoga nodded, acknowledging the ridiculousness of the whole thing more than the allergy specifically.

A nurse came in to take the routine vitals. “Our visiting hours will be over soon, you should let the family know,” he said, and wrote down the vitals on the notebook he carried.

Camus pursed his lips for a moment. “He doesn’t have any blood relatives. I’ll stay with him,” he said.

“And you are his…?” asked the nurse.

Camus shot him his iciest glare. “His friend. I brought him here,” he answered.

“I’m sorry, but by hospital policy, only family can stay the night,” he said in an apologetic tone, and walked out of the room.

Camus clenched his fists, the temperature around him dropping quickly.

“I’ll call Seiya,” said Hyoga, pulling out his cell phone. “He’s with Saori, I’m sure she’ll be able to make a call and-“

“No, I don’t…want to trouble Athena with this,” said Camus. The prospect of having to have her intercede for him like this…It wasn’t that _hid_ his relationship with Milo from others, it was just that…he didn’t want to talk about it so openly like that.

Hyoga fell silent, but didn’t put the cell phone back in his pocket. “I don’t think she would mind…,” he said in a whisper.

Camus took a deep breath, looking at Milo’s hand over the white bedsheets, his skin still so pale, the sight of it weighed heavily on Camus’ chest.

“We’re not just friends,” he finally said.

Hyoga gave him a confused look. “What?”

“It’s been a while since we started dating,” said Camus, still unwilling to look at Hyoga.

“No, I meant…Are you serious? You really think I didn’t know?”

Camus looked up at him, feeling his face heating up. “Y-you knew?”

Hyoga blinked at him. “You do everything together. You have two houses yet you’re always together at one or the other. He visits you in _Siberia_. Did you really think I didn’t know??”

This time, Camus looked away because he knew he must have been blushing furiously. “I-I guess. I mean, we always did most things together. Not much changed when we started, uhmm…”

A guard appeared at the door. “Visiting hours are over. I’ll have to ask you gentlemen to leave,” he said.

Hyoga stood up. “I’m calling Saori,” he said with a huff and walked out of the room.

“Hyoga, no!” called Camus, wanting to follow him, but also wanting to stay. He stayed frozen on the stop.

“Sir, I’m sorry but…” said the guard, stepping into the room.

Camus looked back at Milo. He looked so peaceful, his face holding same expression he’d had this morning, before Camus had draped his arm over him and kissed his neck.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, raising his hands. He didn’t want to make any noise that would wake up Milo, so he gave up.

He couldn’t find Hyoga on the hallways around the room, and soon another guard chased him down to the lobby, where a flowers seller was starting to close the shop.

“Excuse me, did you see a blonde young man around here?” he asked her, suddenly worried. Where could he have gone?

“Tall? Talking very loudly on a cell phone?” she asked.

Camus sighed. “Yes, yes, because he can’t be discreet about anything,” he muttered.

“Your son went that way, “ she said, pointing out of the glass doors of the hospital entrance.

“Thank you,” said Camus, turning that way before he fully processed exactly what she had said. He stopped in his tracks. “He-he’s not my son!” he said, feeling his face warm up again.

“So he’s your husband’s son? Sorry about what happened to him. Allergies are terrible.”

Camus opened his mouth to say something, but his outrage was so great, the words died in his throat. He knew Hyoga had a certain inability to be discreet about most things, but this was too much. That boy would be getting an earful soon.

The lady grabbed a small bouquet of red roses and gave it to him. “Here, please have these. I hope your husband recovers quickly.”

Camus hesitated for a moment before taking the flowers. “Thank you,” he said, choosing courtesy over truth.

Hyoga came back inside the hospital, smiling. “She says she’s going to call the hospital, and that you should have told her right away. I think she’s planning on buying the hospital now,” he said, and noticed the bouquet in Camus’ hands. “Oh, you got him flowers? I should have only listened to Shun.”

A nurse came running down the hall at them. “Mister Camus?” she asked, out of breath.

“Yes?”

“We just had a call, you and your son can stay with your husband in the room,” she said.

Camus blinked, and pondered for half a moment whether to clarify things, but he decided he was too tired for that.

“Thank you,” he said, and followed her back to the room.

Milo woke up the next day and was discharged that afternoon, but the doctors told him to take it easy and if possible to stay in bed for at least a couple days more. He complained about how boring it would be for all of five minutes, before demanding that Camus care for him and pamper him, completely unaware that the whole hospital now believed they were married.

Camus bit his tongue on all the remarks he wanted to make as he pushed Milo out of the hospital in a wheelchair.

“Tell Hyoga that he has excellent taste and he should bring me whiskey even if I’m not dying,” said Milo, looking at the bottle that Hyoga brought him the day before.

Camus briefly considered just dumping Milo out of the wheelchair right into the street. He was sure he would survive _that_ at least, but he noticed Tatsumi standing next to a very nice van.

“Look! Athena sent us a car! I should almost die more often,” said Milo with a laugh.

Camus gritted his teeth and stopped the wheelchair for a moment to wrap his hands around his neck.

“That can be arranged,” he muttered, closing his hands around Milo’s neck.

“Gah! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! No more jokes about dying!” he gasped.

Camus let go of him and kept pushing the wheelchair. “Good, now if you could just shut up for a while, that would be even nicer.”

“You are the one that should be nice to me! I’m the victim here. Why didn’t you just take me in your arms to the hospital right away?”

“In my defense, I didn’t know you were allergic. And I brought you flowers, but you don’t remember because you were unconscious for 18 hours.”

“What? Really? Wait what day is it today?”

Camus shook his head and let Tatsumi open the doors for them. There were a long couple of days ahead for them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that explains the text message #11 in my other fic “12 Slices of Our Life”, which if you haven’t read you should totally do (and leave a comment or a like in it cos that’s very nice). And if you HAVE read it, then: I KNOW the message ended up not being a text message or a phone call, but I liked it better how it worked out in here, so please don’t mind the details.
> 
> This was so so much fun to write you guys have no idea. Oh, and the whole “Hyoga can’t be discreet” that’s a headcanon of mine that I have just because it makes for some good jokes. But I also like to think of him as one of those people who always yells while talking on the phone because doesn’t get that people can hear you if you speak in a normal voice.
> 
> Thank you for reading this, and please leave a comment or kudos if you like this. It would mean a lot to me.


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